Help Me Remember
by Thisideup
Summary: .:SLASH WARNING:. You know things are bad when a) you're 19 and have no memory of your life and b) you've found yourself seeking help from someone who claims to be your school time rival. Welcome to the life of one Harry Potter...
1. Chapter 1

Green eyes opened, glaring at the large red numbers of the clock.  
  
"Stupid alarm clock," he grumbled as he reached over and turned it off.  
  
Rolling out of bed, he grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom. He turned the shower on and stepped back, allowing it to heat. As he began to undress, he caught his reflection. The reflection of a stranger.  
  
Yes, Harry Potter was nineteen years old and could not remember a single detail of his previous seventeen years. Oh, he had pictures of course, and the accounts of his relatives, the Dursleys (whom Harry had disliked from the moment they had reluctantly identified him) but his own memories were virtually nonexistent. The doctors said he was nearly dead when he was brought in and it was perfectly natural that he sustain a temporary case of amnesia. Harry laughed somewhat bitterly and finished undressing, tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor.  
  
Harry sighed as he let the warm water run over him, his mind struggling to find the answers hidden in his memories. Answers such as where the lightning shaped scar on his forehead came from. Harry shook his head and drove those thoughts from his mind. He would be late if he didn't hurry.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the messy raven locks slipping easily through his fingers. He glanced around as he walked, looking for some clue to his life, hoping that maybe today he would see something that would trigger it. He shook his head.  
  
"It's useless," he whispered to himself, dropping his head.  
  
The impact of hitting another body and then cold concrete jolted him back to reality. Looking up, he met two startled silver eyes.  
  
"Potter."  
  
Harry's eyes widened as a single name flashed through his mind.  
  
"Malfoy?" he said, his tone questioning.  
  
Draco arched one eyebrow, "Who else would it-!"  
  
He didn't finish. Harry had hugged him so fiercely that he could hardly breathe.  
  
"Potter, what are you doing?" he demanded, silver eyes glinting dangerously as he pried Harry from him, standing and brushing himself off. People had been staring.  
  
Harry jumped to his feet, bag forgotten at his feet, "I remembered something!" he exclaimed.  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion, "What the hell are you talking about, Potter?"  
  
Harry looked around as if realizing for the first time that they were in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
"Um," he spotted a café, "Come on, I'll explain in there."  
  
~*~  
  
Ten minutes later, the two boys sat across from each other at a small table in the café. Draco blinked unbelievingly at Harry as the boy related what had happened from the time he had awoken in the hospital until the time he had run into Draco.  
  
"So," he paused, "You don't remember anything?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Not Snape, or Quidditch or Hogwarts...nothing?"  
  
This was unbelievable.  
  
"Nothing," Harry confirmed, "But," he paused, his eyes looking straight into Draco's with such intensity Draco was having trouble breathing again, "You do. And I want you to help me. I want you to help me remember."  
  
~*~  
  
"I hate him," Draco thought to himself as he lounged in his apartment that night, "I hate him."  
  
He closed his eyes. Intense green orbs stared back at him.  
  
"Damn it! I hate him!" Draco yelled.  
  
But, if I hate him, why am I helping him get his memory back...and why can't I get his eyes out of my mind?  
  
Draco had agreed to help the other boy regain his memories. Why, he wasn't sure but he knew it had to have something to do with those bewitching green eyes of his. Draco groaned and buried his head in his pillow.  
  
"What is wrong with me?" he whispered to no one in particular, his voice muffled by the pillow.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry had decided not to go to class that day and had spent the day wandering around London trying to get Draco Malfoy out of his mind. This proved to be a very difficult thing indeed. After all, the boy simply oozed sex appeal and Harry was not nearly as immune as he should have been. All he saw when he closed his eyes was platinum hair and silver eyes. No Harry Potter was most definitely not immune to the charms of Draco Malfoy. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will not recieve anything for this except (hopefully) some feedback.

* * *

Beep! Beep!

Harry groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head.

"Just five more minutes," he mumbled sleepily.

Then he sat straight up and looked quickly at the alarm beside him.

"Bleeding unholy hell! I'm late!"

And with that he sprang out of bed, fumbling about for his trousers and stepping into them. The phone rang, shrill and loud in the early morning. Harry spun, pulling his shirt on and yelped as the world tilted sharply. He winced and scrambled up from his place on the floor.

"Hello?!" he snapped.

"Good morning to you too, Potter."

The man in question sighed, "Good is one way to describe it. Why did you call?"

He listened idly as Draco spouted off something about making sure he didn't forget where they were meeting, etc. It was far more interesting to merely let Draco's voice flow over him. He walked by the mirror and attempted to force his hair to lay flat.

_'It's a lost cause dearie,' said the mirror._

_'Well it's worth a shot right?'_

"Potter? Harry?!" Draco was shouting at him, apparently had been for a while if his ringing ear was any proof.

"I'm here... I-- Have I ever encountered a talking mirror?"

The line was silent, then, "Yes. Quite a few as a matter of fact. Look, just meet me later and I'll explain. I have to go."

"Alright, I'll--" there was a soft click and the phone went dead, "See you then."

* * *

Harry blinked up at the pub in front of him.

"The Leaky Cauldron? Draco, this place really doesn't look very safe..."

He heard Draco mutter something about the apocalypse and paled, but before he could object any further, the blonde beside him grabbed his arm and dragged him through the door. He was immediately struck by a strong sense of familiarity. The noise around him abruptly stopped and he felt the gazes of dozens of people upon him. The silence was awkward and he glanced furtively at Draco who rolled his eyes and pulled him through the crowd to a brick wall. He pulled out a stick and began to tap the wall in some type of pattern.

"Um, Draco? What are you doing exactly?" Harry whispered, the sound seeming louder than it was in the unnatural silence of the pub.

Draco ignored him and stepped back, smirking at the startled yelp Harry gave when the bricks rearranged themselves into the doorway to Diagon Alley. His smile widened as he pulled the shell shocked hero into the streets.

* * *

Three hours later Harry was still fluttering from store to store staring in awe at the objects displayed. The Quidditch store particularly fascinated him. Draco let him wander about, trailing behind and answering his questions. Potter hardly noticed the stares sent his way and when he did, the stupid sod wrote them off to the fact that he was wearing what Draco explained were "Muggle clothes." Eventually, Potter was convinced that food was indeed necessary to human survival and dragged into a nearby restaurant. Draco ordered for them and turned to the Boy-who-lived.

"So," he began hesitantly, "Any memories?"

Potter gave a small nod, "Just one. It's silly though. I was on one of those brooms," he gestured absently towards the street, "And I was flying. I was wearing these, what did you call them? Robes? Yes, robes. I was wearing these red and gold robes and chasing a gold ball. It had wings. And then you were there and you... well, you pushed me off the broom."

Draco laughed, "Yes yes, the first Quidditch match of sixth year. I was so angry at you. You see, you had just revealed my father as a Death Eater and put him in Azkaban."

"Draco... what's a Death Eater? And Azkaban. What's an Azkaban?"

Draco blinked, "That's right, you wouldn't remember. You know what, I should probably start at the beginning. You see, Potter, you're a wizard."

And for the second time that day, the hero of the wizarding world was left speechless and staring.

* * *

Author Notes: Yes I know this is a really short chapter but I'm going through hurricane after hurricane and don't really have time to write a longer one. R/R please...  
  
Jess  



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